Melody Carlson - Never Been Kissed: A Novel

Never Been

Kissed

A Novel

Melody Carlson

2011 by Melody Carlson

Published by Revell

a division of Baker Publishing Group

P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

www.revellbooks.com

E-book edition created 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 9781441214843

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

This book is a work of fiction. Names,characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

______

Youre kidding, right? Stacies brows lift and her eyes widen with suspicion.

Of course, I assure her. Totally pulling your leg.

She laughs loudly. Because for a minute I thought you were serious, Elise. Even though you dont look like the kind of girl whos never been kissed, you had me going.

I try to make my laughter sound genuine. Yeah, well, youre an easy mark. Unfortunately, I was actually trying to be honest with her just now. But its obvious she doesnt want the truth from me. She prefers fascinating fiction to the boring facts of my real life. Even so, I feel a little guilty for the way Ive been stringing her along.

So, back to the subject, Elise. What are you going to do for your sixteenth birthday?

I stare down at my colorful toenails. Stacie decided we needed to give ourselves pedicures, and weve been experimenting with nail polish colors. The result is a carnival on my right foot. I just cant decide between funky limelight, flirty fuchsia, perky purple, or punchy pink. I dont know, I say as I wiggle my toes in the sunlight. Which color do you like best?

She squints at my toes. Maybe you should stick with the rainbow look and just do your other foot the same. And heres some electric blue for your pinkie. But I was talking about your birthday, Elise, not your toenails. Sixteen is big. A lot of girls around here pull out the stops with their sweet sixteen parties.

Is that what youre going to do? I ask her as I reach for the electric blue.

Well, thats a ways off, she admits. But maybe. Yeah, sure, why not? I think Ill have a huge partymaybe rent a ballroom and hire a band and have a Hummer stretch limo drop me off like Im a celebrityand of course Ill be wearing a really great dress.

I just nod like I believe this. But the truth is I dont think either of usStacie or Iare likely to have one of those over-the-top sweet sixteen parties. Furthermore, I dont even want one. Oh, maybe I would want one... in a perfect world. But I dont live in a perfect world. And neither does Stacie.

We live in the Tropicana Suites on Alejandro Drive on the not-so-cool side of town. Both of our moms are single and financially challenged. Currently, Stacies mom is between jobs, and my mom struggles just to make ends meet. Or so she likes to say, and way too much as far as Im concerned.

So, seriously, a sweet sixteen party is pretty much out of the question for both of us. Besides that, Stacie, whos only going to be a freshman, wont even be fifteen for a few months, so her sixteenth birthday isnt really an issue.

I dont normally hang with girls who are younger than me... but nothing about this summer has been very normal. I guess I should be glad that its almost over, except for the prospect of going to a new high school. That, combined with Staciea fourteen-year-oldas my only friend, fills me with a deep sense of dread.

So who kissed you anyway? Stacie asks as she splashes her feet in the pool. This rather compact swimming pool is situated in the center of our retro (meaning old and run-down) apartment complex. But the pool is actually the one perk of this otherwise pathetic property. At least when theres not some skanky party going on down here. But Mr. Galloway has been doing his best to make sure the tenants adhere to the bathing suits required rule lately. And I heard that Joey Feducci has been given notice, which has my mom greatly relieved. Joey is this middle-aged dude who thinks hes Gods gift to women and hits on any female within whistling distance, including my mom and me, which is so disgusting... I cant even go there.

Elise? Stacie is peering at me. Hello?

Huh? I look up from where Im hunched over, finishing up the electric blue polish on my right pinky toe.

Who kissed you?

Oh. I sit up straight, pasting my Im so much older than you expression on my face. You mean the first time, right?

How many times have you been kissed?

I narrow my eyes and give her a mysterious smilejust like Ive seen B do on Gossip Girl . Wouldnt you like to know?

She nods. Yeah, I would. How many times?

Now, Im not usually inclined to telling fibs. But Im also not inclined to opening myself up to unnecessary teasing from this fourteen-year-old. I seriously doubt that shes ever been kissed either. I mean, between her braces, which she really needs to brush a bit more diligently, and her complexion, which Ive told her might improve if she just washed her face once in a while, plus her totally absent breasts... well, lets just say that not many boys have been knocking down her door.

Not that this gives me the right to deceive her, but I happen to be blessed with an excellent imagination. In fact, its this kind of creative outlet that probably keeps me from totally losing it. Because sometimes it feels like my imagination is about all I have. So what does it hurt if I tell a whopper now and then? If nothing else, Im providing Stacie and myself with some cheap entertainment on a boring hot August afternoon.

Come on, she urges me, spill the beans. Im waiting.

I stick my feet into the lukewarm pool water and sigh as if Im trying to remember all the juicy details of my love life. Well, lets see. The first kiss... it was from Allen Brewster when I was thirteen, and it was at

Seriously, your first kiss was thirteen?

I kind of shrug. I was almost thirteen.

She giggles as she splashes some water on her arms. What was it like?

I consider this and come up empty. It was, like, a kiss.

Duh. But what did it feel like? Was it soggy or mushywas there tongue involved?

I roll my eyes and try not to be grossed out as I lean back. Taking in a long breath, I place my hands on the cement behind me and stretch my neck so that my long hair tickles the bare part of my back. Well, it was slightly wet, I tell her, and no tongue was involved, thank you very much.

And so... ? She waits eagerly.

Then there was Jake Richey, I continue with mock confidence to hide my guilt. I was almost fourteen when we got together. We went out from the end of eighth grade clear into my sophomore year. I continue to describe this boy in explicit detail. This is something Im not making upI mean how he looked and acted and everything. Because Jake was a real guy and he was totally hot. But he didnt know that I even existed, at least not back in eighth grade. The girl he went with all those years was a stuck-up cheerleader named Jocelyn Matthews. She was one of those perky, plucky blondes who acted like she was sweet and nice when anyone worthwhile was looking, but at other times she loved to pick on girls like me. I suspect it was simply to boost her self-esteem. Or maybe she was just bored. Whatever her reasons, the girl had a mean streak.

That was probably my excuse for fantasizing about her boyfriend. Like it was my way to get even with Jocelyn. Consequently, I daydreamed about Jake on a fairly regular basis during middle school. I would imagine stealing him from Jocelynbreaking her cold, hard heart. But I wasnt only about retaliation, because Jake was actually a cool guy. And even though he didnt know my name, he never did anything mean or hurtful to me. Sometimes Id see him stand up for someone else who was being picked on. So, naturally, one of my favorite escapes from my pathetic reality was to hope that one day Jake would actually look my way, really see me, and even take a genuine interest in me. Sometimes I even believed it was possible.